


The Significance of Coffee in the Life of Clinton Francis Barton

by Miss_Hiraya



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A lot of Hurt, Author does not know what else to tag, Author gives Clint another identity, BAMF Clint Barton, Canon Divergence, Captivity, Clint is not a dumb carnie at all, Clint loves his coffee, Comfort and rescue, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, He's now a therapy dog, Lucky is adorable, Not AoU-compliant, Not Beta Read, Post CA:TWS, Protective Clint, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4969690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Hiraya/pseuds/Miss_Hiraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers decided to give everyone a heart attack and disappear. Turns out that they were all kidnapped by HYDRA (again). Clint, ex-carnie/mercenary/SHIELD agent and Avenger-on-leave, goes on a killing spree to get his teammates back. He doesn't know when it escalated to meeting the Winter soldier himself.</p>
<p>Or: Clint is really not just a dumb carnie with a bow and arrows, Maria Hill is meticulous in her coffee preference, and James Barnes is just a lost angry puppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier; everybody knows Phil Coulson is alive and is the new Director of SHIELD; Maria Hill is mother-henning the Avengers. Clint for the most part has quit SHIELD, and is on a vacation leave (they wouldn't let him quit) from Avenging duties.

_I'm not cut out for this team, Fury and you know that._

* * *

Lucky's cold nose bops Clint's hand, tail wagging happily as a cold pizza sits prettily on his master's lap. Clint indulges with a lazy grin, large coffee pot in his hand, because Clint has never been contented in his life like this: waking up in the afternoon in his little farm house somewhere far from the bustle of New York and off-the map, having cold pizzas, a bunch of (crappy) TV show marathons to last through the day, and being as normal as any ex-assassin can be.

Life is mundane and plain, but at least he doesn't have to worry about things such as looking and feeling like a big bruise all the time keeping up people that's several leagues beyond him.. For now. Clint can actually pretend he's now retired, and fuck if he sounds old; this sounds heaven. This is breath of fresh air. This is his life now.

He reaches for another slice of pizza, petting his one-eyed dog absently, when his phone rings. "Aww, phone, no." He doesn't bother looking at the caller's ID so he's perpetually surprised when his cozy Friday afternoon is interrupted with a familiar voice, "Agent Bridges."

His mind takes a few moments for the gears to start clicking. He almost blurts out _sorry, wrong number_ , but then Clint remembers. "Coulson."  _I_ ' _m pretty sure I filed the resignation papers with the right information and readable scrawl why have I not thought about my other identities goddamnit._

The other man pauses. If he hadn't trusted Phil Coulson himself, he would have ended the call. But Carlisle Bridges has earned seven degrees in various fields, is SHIELD's Analyst, Tactical Operations Adviser who answers to Director Fury and no one else, and is a Level Eight agent. Bridges is the opposite of Clinton Francis Barton, ex-carnie and uneducated archer. Bridges is also professional, or so his supposed identity should be so even though Clint feels the beginnings of a headache forming at the back of his skull, he replies with a strictly professional tone. "Something I can help you with?"

He can imagine the former director doing his victory dance from whatever part of the world he is in, if he ever catches this conversation.

"Actually, there is. I need your hands on this, Agent. The Avengers have gone missing."

Oh, now Phil is just pulling his leg. He rolls his eyes heavily and replies in a smooth, barely restrained tone. "May I request the line be private?" He grits the words out between his teeth. If Phil is using his alias, then maybe shit is going down for real or he's just humoring him. Coulson complies.

"You lost them." Clint repeats, just to make sure his aids didn't get the wrong words.

"Romanoff sent a distress call six hours ago traced back to the Tower. When we got there, Stark's A.I began firing at every SHIELD agent we sent there and we hadn't got inside since."

"And you didn't think Stark is pulling your leg again." He inhales the last bits of his coffee. He is not prepared for this- whatever this is.

"Oh, believe me. I would love for that man to come out and shout April Fools to my face so I could strangle him right now, instead I have me a video of a bloody clown cackling down a hall and an invitation to a hide-and-seek game." _Oh, Phil must be really stressed out right now._

"Tony is not above that."

"Well, you got to hand it to the guy for pulling off really convincing effects."

His phone beeps with an incoming video Phil just sent him. Clint stares at it as he presses the play button. He sees through a really shaky camera like a drunk filmed it, a clown popping from the side of the screen and giggling what Clint can describe as creepy as fuck, which the camera focuses on as it saunters with a pipe on his hand and makes screeching noises with the walls and other things not visible in the dark.

_Okay, that is creepy but-_

But then he hears a distant, gut-tearing scream from somewhere and he knows that voice- or at least he recognizes it because it is Tony Stark's.

He sips the remains of the pot only to find out that he's already consumed it moments ago. Lucky barks, his sound muffled, but his cold nose startles Clint badly. He couldn't even have the heart to reprimand the dog for it.

"Barton." Coulson's voice snaps him back completely.

"You haven't got a location on them yet." Clint hears himself say. It's a cold, apathetic tone he's adapted when he's thisclose to losing it.

"We need your help." his former handler doesn't confirm, but it is enough. Clint almost says but I'm just a guy with a bow and arrows, but it clogs his throat because he's not and Phil knows that so he eventually pulls himself back together. "Give me thi-"

Phil Coulson is a man who reads between the lines like second nature, and he is also a man who likes to plan three steps ahead for everything so his reply is short and concise. "Hill is already coming to get you."

And of course, Maria Hill, such a legendary woman, has excellent timing because Clint's door is already pushed open to reveal Hill herself, calm but a bit rumpled- not that anyone not close to her would notice. Clint pockets his phone and bolts to get his weapon. He doesn't even bother with the clothes, Maria and her worked together in occasions, and Phil has known him as his handler for years: he knows they already got that covered.

He only wishes he had at least two more pots of coffee before he had to leave.

* * *

Clint changes his wardrobe at the backseat of the car with precise motion that meant he had done this already plenty of times and he certainly doesn't bother getting naked with Maria inside the car. Maria hands him a laptop without looking and Clint accepts it and began typing furiously. "Thanks, Maria."

Hill raises an eyebrow as if to humor him, "No problem, Agent Bridges." There's a terse silence for a moment until Clint playfully punches her in the shoulder and grumbles about how that was all Coulson's fault and Fury for being manipulative bastards whom he lost a bet to. She tips her head back with a small smirk on her face and Clint pretends not to notice her glancing at him.

They arrive later at SHIELD HQ, Maria coming out first, and Clint carrying the laptop with him and making his way to Phil's office without being noticed by avoiding all possible cameras and human interaction. Another taunting video is sent through an anonymous source traced back to the middle of South Pole. Clint works steadily with the keyboard the only noise in the room while the rest of the agents works on the large Operations Room next to his discreet, much smaller one where Maria Hill was also working on before he even arrived. It was really a nice coincidence that Hill was out of the Tower when it was attacked; she had gone with Pepper bonding over tea and spa. Somehow, Clint feels for her: she had the beginnings of a totally relaxing day only to be thrown into this chaos the next moment. Clint would like to whine about his day too, but he figures it really would just sound petty and childish.

Clint restores JARVIS two hours later.

Maria Hill, in her slight surprise, calls Phil to their room. She shouldn't have been surprised, but she is. She knows Clint Barton as Hawkeye and as his disastrous self, but she's only seen this persona a few times- and she's lucky to see it more than once.

Phil barely hides the pride for his former charge as he remembers the bet Clint lost to him and Nick, resulting him to give in to the former Director's secret job offer. Fury was the first to discover Clint's other capabilities when he let the then younger Barton take up the IQ test for the first time since the ones in the HR department assumed an ex-carnie couldn't do much in that part anyway.

It was Phil who insisted Clint on continuing his studies whenever he had downtime. For a kid with an IQ rivalling the geniuses of this generation (yes, Stark) and with only libraries and books to teach himself with, Clint learns pretty fast and soon whenever he's locked out of the range, he'd be found consistently taking up courses he likes on a whim and even managing to publish two books on Physics and Mathematics through his alias.

Clint is still adamant to keep his dumb carnie persona, but Fury got what he wanted anyway.

JARVIS speaks with Clint for another hour, the A.I. managing to sound grateful for the archer and readily helped in reviewing the video footages inside the tower prior to the incident. Another half an hour and both Hill and Coulson are already dragged to Clint's way of pinpointing the possible locations, enemies, and discussing codes, anagrams and possibilities the Intel Division would geek totally over.

They've reached a dead end three times before another cryptic message came from the kidnappers. Maria sees Clint's face light up like a bulb and JARVIS helpfully supplies with, "Good job, Agent Barton."

"Not an Agent anymore, J."

"My apologies, should I call you Mr. Barton then?"

"Clint would be a lot nicer."

"As you wish, Clint." JARVIS sends the information to the main room, Phil gets back to organize the rescue operation while Clint and Maria run immediately to the Quinjet.

* * *

They're on air in a matter of minutes and Clint pilots the Quinjet because it's one of the things he really missed. Maria briefs a team of chosen agents who are more than eager to work with Hawkeye because they've teamed up at least once and they respected the guy bordering adoration.

"Barton."

"Yep?" Clint calls from his seat.

"Would you mind?" she gestured, both exasperated and fond.

"But it's Game of Thrones! It totally hypes everyone, right?”

He is met with the agents looking like they're hiding a laugh. Maria mentally rolls her eyes, gives Clint an arched eyebrow, and turns her gaze to the other people in the room. "Now, pay attention."

* * *

 

On the outside, Maria muses as she finished her briefing with the rescue team, the man piloting the jet is Clint Barton and his usual laidback, disastrous self. But she's not blind, and her instincts in assessing the level of threat of anyone is what kept her alive. Maria can see the hailstorm of emotions fighting to take over beneath the archer's blue eyes; can see the faint twitches on the former agent's muscles, tight and trembling for action; and the clench of his jaw. She can sense the beast of rage rumbling a guttural growl, shackles rattling with restraint.

It's a sight to behold and she wonders how many times Phil as his handler had seen this side of Clint while Maria was busy shadowing Fury. She's rarely seen Clint Barton in this kind of action and she's oddly honored considering the man himself doesn't let his walls down easily.

Clint- no, Hawkeye may be humming to the tune of Game of Thrones soundtrack, but every fiber of his being is on fire. Clint Barton is _livid_.

* * *

 

She is thankful for the little miracle of them finding the ancient dungeon facility (Props to HYDRA) faster. Hawkeye steps with precision and finesse fit for a predator: silent and deadly while the team follows the general plan. Maria is a steady voice in their ears as she waits for them in the Quinjet with the medical team. She hears movements, sharp shifts of air, and occasional bone-snapping and crunching, and then more of Hawkeye starting to bitch his way into the HYDRA facility. A smile creeps into her otherwise unflappable expression. On the few occasions Phil had to attend to other things, Maria had become Barton's handler.

She relieves the thrill of those times and can't help but feel the same now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint goes on a killing spree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Description of violence(there's a part here that may really be considered graphic), Explicit language, Slight-AU, Canon Divergence, not-AoU compliant, Unbeta-ed

Clint lets out his rage as he infiltrates the dungeon facility which looked like a vast maze. The world narrows into a single objective: Find them and kill the rest. Hawkeye is there as he fires arrows at deadly accuracy without looking where it lands or where it's headed. He throws the knives on his disposal when they get closer, tearing at their flesh like it can at least calm the lust for blood burning in his veins.

It's not quite the Hawkeye who people used to work with or usually heard about him. In the years of being a SHIELD agent he was more known to be defiant, snarky, and sarcastic to his previous handlers and silent but lethal and effective especially in long distances when he gets the job done which is most of the time. But he's rarely known to be this destructive, at least not verbally, because he's a sniper and he has patience for lots of things in general: he can take down multiple enemies many yards away, look out for his team's back and still be calm when he jumps off crashing buildings.

But then again, he's not just the World's Greatest Marksman right now, or the ex-SHIELD sniper/assassin. He's also the _pissed-off_ World's Greatest Marksman and positively deadly (ex)assassin who's currently hell-bent on finding his teammates and burning the place to ashes.

He doesn't hold back. It's been ages since he felt this kind of exhilaration of wrath and adrenaline. It's also hard to believe a few hours earlier he was sitting cozy in his apartment with a pot of coffee on his hand, Lucky at his side and living a normal life, yet now he is sending men to the pits of hell with every blow he lashes out. If the others happen to notice Hawkeye's rants getting increasingly morbid and grotesque, they certainly keep quiet about it. Maria, usually calling him out on radio silence, is probably amused more than horrified.

It only escalates when he finds Bruce first, strapped to a wall with thick heavy metal each wrapped to his limbs and a number of tubes disappearing to the veins beneath the doctor's wrist. He can tell Bruce is drugged enough to knock the Other Guy out of commission.

"I'm going to cut off their dicks and force feed it to them before I garrote them with my bow. And feed their eyeballs to the crows.. I swear to God, the ones behind this better run before I think of more ways to send their carcass to hell."

He finds Captain America next and _oh god_ help him, Steve is turned into his fragile six or seven year old self. He's tiny, all skin and bones barely covered by some big dirty shirt, trying desperately to disappear with the grimy wall behind him as Clint opens his cell. Captain America does not back himself to a wall, even more as Steven Rogers. Then again, this isn't quite _their_ Steve. His heart breaks and the bits dig into his lungs but he manages to coax the honest-to-God shaking kid with soft words of reassurance. "-Hey, bud. My name's Clint.. I'm with the good guys. You're safe now."

To his eternal relief, the blond kid whispers hoarsely, "Clint?" Said man would've slid down the door if his reputation allowed him to. "Yeah, it's me Steve. Clint Barton, Hawkeye." He is tackled by the small figure and before he registers it, Steve is already clutching his tac gear, his little fingers digging deep into his skin it almost hurts if current Steve didn't weigh nothing like a six year old should. "You came.." The kid- Steve sobs and wheezes badly but he whispers the same words over and over. So, maybe he should be a little thankful Steve didn't lose his memories but still Clint sees red. Steve is passed out by the time he steps out of the cell, soothing his hands gently over the child's back who's clearly too tired and exhausted with the emotional strain.

His insults and curses sky-rocketed, and Hawkeye becomes more creative in killing HYDRA goons himself. The halls he passed by along with the decreasing number of agents (not a casualty, just some of them were sent back with the compromised Avengers in tow) are literally painted with blood and thick smell of metallic rust. Hawkeye's voice pitches lower as his comment "Heads will roll" took on a literal meaning at some point.

He almost misses Tony's holding cell. But he hears a pathetic whimper anyway and it makes his resolve crumble a bit when he opens Tony's door with little effort and sees the genius twitching on the ground, clawing at his chest where his arc reactor once was and bleeding because of that. Tony's eyes are open and wide but they're unseeing as if- _as if.. Aw no.._

"Tony? Tony.. Listen to my voice. Focus on my voice. Tony. This is Clint, Legolas? Your second favorite Avenger? Prank buddy?" Clint- not Hawkeye now- feels the man stiffen beneath his hold, "That's right, bud. It's okay. You're safe now.." Clint provides comfort by gripping Tony's hand with his own warm and calloused one to call the genius billionaire back from whatever nightmare they put him in. His other hand cards softly in the brunet's sweaty hair and he continues to whisper gently into the other's ear. He hopes to all gods out there Tony would hear him through the haze of painful flashbacks.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Tony's eyes blink open blearily. His weak, roughed up voice sounds shattered when he calls Clint's name. Clint wills to keep his feelings from overflowing and crush his friend into a bear hug. "Hey.." He tries, prays he succeeds, to smile in reassurance.

"-ey, L'golas. Took you long enough.."

"I know.. I'm sorry.. Traffic sucks when you're not a genius, billionaire philanthropist." He says to the other man gently which he would normally never ever do.

Tony coughs what should be a laugh, " You forg't playboy."

"You fear Pepper as much as I do with Nat. I doubt the playboy part." He falls to an easy banter with Tony, to ground his friend. Tony's eyes fill with something warm with longing and worry as he speaks Pepper's name. "Yeah, she's totally gonna kill us both if you end up dead though.. So do me a favor and don't, okay?"

Tony grins weakly and murmurs, "Sure.. Whatever." which Clint holds on to as two agents carry Iron Man between them by the shoulders.

He doesn't even bother with the creative insults now. He just keeps swearing and finds himself grinning sadistically when he stabs two goons in their necks it bleeds so much it sprays a little to his direction.

Hawkeye, ladies and gentlemen, on a killing spree. It took four grown men to take the bulky man like Thor who's unconscious and twitching, grunting, and trying desperately to open his eyes as if trapped in a dream, back to the jet. Clint's methods of trying to wake him up don't work, but the demigod is breathing even though his heart rate is faster than normal. Clint takes that as a win. Mjolnir is left where it sits for a legitimate reason. It blows him to think what they exactly did to an alien Norse god to have him completely incapacitated, but more importantly he promises to find something to cure the guy even if he ends up communicating with his alien home. He's a grown ass man, he can control his issues against anything resembling alien- and reminding him of Loki- for a time.

He finds Natasha next. Well, Black Widow caught him off guard resulting to his bow lying meters away from him, and him sporting a nasty concussion because of that. But he is grateful for the small miracle of finding her anyway. Natasha Romanoff is nowhere to be found but the Black Widow is and she fights like a cornered animal: mad and fiercer than he's ever seen before. It takes minutes longer than Hawkeye's intended to, but fighting the compromised Black Widow is never easy. Recruiting her from years back didn't even come to this point, but he's not going to dwell on that too long as she grips him in a headlock. He tugs on her short hair, and when she doesn't budge, he bites the arm. He takes the momentary distraction to roll them both with him on the top and her face kissing the floor, his knee on her spine as she arcs with him tugging hard at her arms hard to dislocate. She grits curses in Russian that he gets shivers from it. "Natasha." he calls, firm and steady.

"Nat- oof!" The redhead somehow rolls off and throws the archer on his ass and they get back to square one. Size the enemy up; find their weakness; strike with all you got. The feeling is like when they spar every time that gives every nosy agent a show of graceful dance with death, except this time their toes are now stepping over the glaring line of precaution and careless abandon. Widow glances at him with a fiery amber, meeting his own steely blue ones. The ensuing fight that happens next is of punches, kicks, and grabs. It gets dirtier when they start tugging harshly at the hair, throwing dirt and anything else inside the cell, her using his own arrows against him, and both biting and clawing any part they can reach.

"Natasha, stop!" Finally, with maybe ten minutes of their dance and when he is beginning to think of throwing up while his muscles are ablaze with agony, he's gotten the extremely elusive redhead with her own killer thighs move. There's a solid few seconds that he tightens all his muscles to emphasize a point, and he then notices that the Black Widow is merely fighting with sheer will and nothing else.

He stops. He holds his hands to hover close but not actually touch her. He releases whatever tension in his muscles holds and speaks her language in her ear, " _Natasha. Let go. I got you_." Hawkeye can feel the instinctual stiffening of the woman beneath him. Her bloody knuckles clench too tight they pale in color. She's fighting, but this time it's against herself and her very own instinct to _not_ stop. The internal struggle felt like forever, but Hawkeye is a man of extended patience as a sniper so he waits calmly.

"-lint?" her voice, Natasha's, is cracked, thin at the abuse from the thigh grip but most probably at whatever torture they subjected her in. Clint almost doesn't pull himself together at the overwhelming relief, but he tentatively holds her shoulder as he helps her to a more comfortable position. "Yeah it's me, Nat. Clint." He suppresses the beast of rage ready to behead everyone who hurt her and tries to be Clint for now: the Clint that Natasha knows and remembers like the back of her hand.

Natasha shivers, and he notices her soaked wet from head to toe. Her eyes are dull but not duller from before, her expression not as closed-off as when she was Black Widow seconds ago. In fact Clint can see her in her most vulnerable self. Confused, in pain, and evidently showing it despite her reputation. He hugs her, careful but sure, and places a kiss on her forehead. She heaves a trembling sigh, and she allows her to be taken by him as they stand. Natasha's barely holding herself but he wounds his arm on her waist and takes hers around his shoulder.

He belatedly notices that he's probably broke four ribs, if not cracked them. Oh, is his nose broken? No, his face is definitely broken. That's totally lucky when you fight the Black Widow.

He knows she is trying her hardest not to succumb to the promise of sleep. Clint apologizes anyway as she slumps to his hold, Clint throwing away the little dart he had in his hand in case things like these happen (he has special ones for Jade Jaws, but thank god he didn't have to resort to that). Clint deposits him to the remaining agents in his aid who had their faces torn between awe and horror. They swallow hard as he gives them the look that promised hell if they held her wrong. It probably helped that he was looking outright murderous despite being covered in more nasty bruises, cuts and blood after fighting the redhead assassin. Hawkeye spins on his heels and soothes the agony seeping in his bones with adrenalin and refueled anger.

He finds the control room abandoned but he takes the pleasure in seeing who he safely concluded are the higher-ups behind the abduction plan scampering away like rats smoked out from their holes before he ends them as well. There's a sliver of a voice that should not be in his head that tells him how he's pleased seeing the blood and chaos he's caused and i _sn't that freeing? Exhilarating?_

"No." Clint grinds his teeth together. He stops and looks at the hands attached to his arms. It's bloody and filthy of so many things he has done. But this is his choice. This time it is not against his will. This time he knows what it is for. Clint manages to calm down and chase away the fog of irrationality behind his eyes.

There are people behind his back, anticipating and slightly tensed. Scared. Thankfully they don't point the guns to him yet and just shoots the remaining enemy goons.

He doesn't get far when a thick chain wraps itself on his neck. Clint has a silent panic attack when he twists away and sees metal arm with a red star insignia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger, yay! I mean.. Ooops.
> 
> The last chapter will be on the weekend. Probably. Reviews are turned into cookies to feed lil Steviee :3
> 
> -A.I


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint meets the Winter Soldier.. and gets away with it in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Explicit language, Slight-AU, Canon Divergence, not-AoU compliant, Unbeta-ed

Two brainwashed Russian assassins in one day, yes this is his life now. Said life might not extend to more than five minutes now that he's in front of the ghost that is the Winter Soldier himself. Clint is not pessimistic, but he knows when a fight is not in his favor. Natasha, he can deal with, but the Winter Soldier on an arm distance with him and his concussion and sore everything? He's not really sure.

* * *

The other agents took too long to notice the dread but they did eventually, and Clint gives a look and tells them to step back and run: he's not losing any life on his watch if he can help it. The Winter Soldier takes aim at them, and Hawkeye makes the shot go astray while the others took it as signal to scramble away from them.

"Hawkeye, report." the "what's taking you so long" lies between the words spoken by Maria's voice in his ear.

"I found Black Widow, alright. But she's got a friend and I don't know if I can deal with the Winter Soldier after her." he relays to the comm as much as he could while diverting the assassin's attention to him. He grunts in between his reply as he attempts on pushing back the Soviet assassin who almost ends him in the metal arm's chokehold.

"I'll be right there."

"Right. Just don't- ugrh- startle anyone." Clint climbs overhead like a pesky monkey on the one-armed soldier to avoid another bout of the assassin's wrath. Winter Soldier makes a grab for his wrist and almost breaks it in two before Clint hopes on all the stars when he makes a grab for the last arrow in his quiver and stabs the metal arm. It twitches and spazzes as the man grits his teeth in a snarl. Then it stops working. It's a ton of burden now. _Thank god for my luck._

Now that takes the Winter Soldier's attention, alright.

Clint holds his hands up in the air in a pacifying manner, pushes the little voice in his head that says he's gonna die stupid and an idiot, and speaks to him in Russian. " _What are you doing?"_

He startles at the language for a split second but then the Winter soldier looks to him with a piercing glare. He is not very amused at his arm not working right now, and he is certainly not happy by the question. _"I knew you were watching."_ The heavy implication lies unspoken, but the man in front of him is no fool and his face is unmoved.

_"I can still kill you."_ The man finally speaks, thick and low and growling. Any lesser man with a functioning brain would have scrambled away by now.

_"But you didn't."_ Clint lets out a small confident shrug and follows, _"And you won't._ "Later, he will blame the concussion for this. If he's not dead later.

This earns a glare and then a menacing teeth-showing that's too frightening to be a smile, _"Confidence will kill idiots."_ Clint cannot argue with that when he's basically talking down the legendary Winter Soldier. But hey, if Natasha says his lack of self-preservation is sometimes useful than annoying, he can be a little confident.

_"You were the one who sent the last message if I had to guess wildly, or one of HYDRA is an idiot who tattles not so subtly after their attempt at mystery in the first two."_ Clint can see the lines on his face taut like when Natasha is holding back a snicker or a sharp jibe. He continues with the proverbial chain on his neck tightening and hanging him to his noose, _"You have been on the run and destroying their bases even before this, and I know for sure how you're keeping an eye on Rogers more than you'd admit."_

That earns a slight twitch of eyebrow and Hawkeye is only so eager to explain. _"I had you on my sights for some time. But I decided watching you trying to decide whether to smother Captain America in a hug or a pillow is not really that much. Natasha told me not to meddle in yours and Cap's problem unless.. well, you actually choose to kill him."_ The Winter Soldier bristles like a wild cat, but before he can make a move to kill him in a blink he continues, _"Don't you think a century is enough running away, James Buchanan Barnes?_ "

The soldier grows livid and is almost ready to snap his neck but before that he spits in English an angry, _"I do not know that man."_

_"I know you'll never be that man again. But you know, calling you by a normal name instead of Winter Soldier is a lot easier for me to say."_ So the Russian assassin might have ignored the last part, but Clint can tell the gears in his head were spinning at the first part. Clint knows the feeling of having a part of oneself ripped from you so he is not going to talk bullshit to the guy in front of him, and he wants him to know that. _"Just know that even when you're done tearing HYDRA bases to your heart's extent, there is another way to exact your revenge from them. One that doesn't involve violent explosions, anyway"_

The silence stretches to a point where Clint is starting to think of his last thoughts (coffee, he hasn't got enough coffee for this) before he dies without anyone to witness, but then the Winter Soldier shifts his stance only so slightly. He watches with his guards up, even though the only weapon he has in his person is the last dagger on his boot. _Nat , please take care of Lucky and feed him pizza, okay?_

Whatever the man wants to do -or ask by the slight tilt of his head, he clearly stops and changes his mind when he hears someone approaching. Later, Clint will really thank Maria for having such perfect timing. Clint watches the blur of black disappear into one of the hallways.

He and Maria exchange looks that end up with the younger man shrug. She seems satisfied with that answer, so she lets him lead the way out of the place and into the Quinjet. There's no trace left behind by the Winter Soldier even though he's been standing right there a second ago.

"I thought you were burning this place down." She says as they pick up their steps.

"I think he bears enough grudge for the both of us. I'll let him have it his way this time." Clint replies just as easily, while on the inside it's only beginning to sink in that he just encountered the Winter Soldier and got away with it breathing and in one piece. Maria seems to have the same thing on her mind as she stares at her charge with the hints of relief and surprise. A beat later she adds, "At least you've done a nice paint job."

Clint looks at him for several moments before he throws his hands in surrender. "Either you spend too much time with Tasha or Phil, or I have missed your sense of humour entirely." She gives him an innocent look that sends Clint out of balance. _I am surrounded by scary women. Crazy, scary women- yes, I know Pepper can be mean with her stilettos. This is my life._

The base erupts into a crimson flower amidst the pale white snow, and Clint looks satisfied.

* * *

The flight is silent and nerve-wracking. The hawk does not look like he's going to claw someone's throat right now as he's focused intently on flying the jet. But the air of protectiveness is thick and while it is reassuring, it is also frightening on many levels.

When they land in Stark Tower, Pepper is there as well as Phil. There are doctors that Phil reassures are the best they've got on such short notice. Clint doesn't move as he stands guard while his teammates are taken care of, and he doesn't rest even when they're already put in an enormous room, unconscious but stable with IV drips and bandages and stitches to patch them up.

There's a lot of things going on his mind as the adrenalin wears off. Things that don't help him recover a sense of rationality the more he looks over his teammates in their battered forms. His mind reels to the frail and young Steve's voice so tiny but full of hope when he holds on to him, Tony's weak banter that draws so many feelings from him, then Natasha.. Natasha's face so vulnerable and hurt. He digs the palm of his hand to his eyes and tries to gain back his breathing because those thoughts are not helpful at all but he can't make them go away and-

"Clint." The feminine but strong voice calls him, grounds him. A hand is on his shoulder but it's not Maria's but Phil's. The two older agents are on his personal space and they save him from having a breakdown. They don't say anything. They can tell him it's over, this is isn't your fault but they don't. It doesn't make it less true though. They sit close enough and they don't say anything, just sipping shit load of coffee until they can think straight again (Maria's stash because unlike the two men who drink anything resembling caffeine with no regard for sophistication, she has high standards).

* * *

 

Clint doesn't leave after that. He even got Lucky inside the Tower and he now has the entire floor to himself like the rest of the gang does. Steve is back to his normal age, as much as a part of him misses the adorable six year old Steve who made Phil the happiest fanboy alive. There's actually a funny story behind that time Thor woke up on his own. Clint cracks up every time he remembers it, much to Thor's embarrassment. Bruce is still Bruce who makes him tea and cooks for them spicy dishes as a sign of warming up to this dysfunctional family. Tony acts like nothing happened although he's spent a month making Clint new arrows and wrangling him to the labs for more of his sciencey projects when JARVIS helpfully tells him of Agent Carlisle Bridges.

"Barton, you dick. You're not allowed to fool anyone in this Tower with your dumb, uneducated carnie act. You are breaking my poor heart."

"I'm glad I'm having that effect."

"You're also making Bruce upset."

Bruce interjects with, "He's just being, well, Tony. But we'd love to have you in our Science-bros club too. That is if you aren't busy and if you want to, really."

He wants to but Clint is not sure if he likes having this side of him known to the team. He liked it when people underestimate him. But then again, unlike other people, this team doesn't actually judge him for it. So he figures it's okay. And maybe he's warming up to them more than he intends to.

Natasha is scary as usual. But if Clint notices the subtle gestures and her going out of her usual way to do favors for him, he certainly is wise enough not to point it out nor make her stop. Natasha takes her debts seriously even if he clearly doesn't see it as her owing him anything. But Clint knows he'll never win that argument- he never did when she insisted she owes him for giving her a choice to clean her ledger. And did he mention scary? Yeah, nope. He is not going to argue with her on that.

They have nightmares, their share added with another traumatic event. Clint helps them through it in ways that'd fit them, and when they notice him hovering over them more than usual they would just smile and let the archer do what he wants. Nobody asks what happened or what he did. Clint is glad for that. They should only know that anyone who dares hurting them will not be left without the hawk's wrath making their lives a living hell or sending them to hell, whichever is appropriate.

The doubts in his head about keeping his place on the team doesn't scare him so much anymore. Until the day he no longer can hold a bow or see straight, he will give what he can to this group of people who did nothing but embrace him as he is.

* * *

He only goes home to get some of his belongings and doesn't plan on staying. Clint makes it through a very silent panic attack (again!)when he finds a metal-armed hobo curled tightly on his front porch. There's no blood or sign of destruction around his farm house that he sees yet. But there's the Winter Soldier on his doorstep and suddenly he thinks of stealing from Maria's stash of coffee if he ever makes out of this with just a major headache.

"Barnes."

The man snaps out of his- whatever he's in. And Clint somehow has an inkling he only responded because of the stranger's voice and not because of the name. Clint can deal with that, he thinks. He fishes out his keys, Lucky cautiously sniffing the stranger and barking only once before seemingly being satisfied. From the side of his vision he sees the other man stiffen comically at the movements and the creature eyeing him like he's someone interesting and totally not capable of killing. Or maybe Lucky knows the danger the man is posing, but he's just like his owner who lacks self-preservation bordering suicidal.

Clint opens his door and is successful at not fumbling, "My coffee stash is shit. But I think I can cook you decent eggs and provide you hot water for a bath."

He doesn't look to see if the other man follows him inside or has decided cutting his dog. He hears Lucky's excited bounce on the wooden floor and he hides a smile as stealthy footsteps come closer to the living room.

He ends up staying for a week, serving as a good host to a brainwashed assassin as he struggles to become a part of the man he used to be. Or maybe a man at least different from being a mindless killing machine. When his expression scrunches up, Clint doesn't ask any more if he'd come with him at the Tower. He does leave Lucky and the farm on his hands. And a phone he made sure Stark won't be able to trace with the help of JARVIS. He would've laughed heartily at the look on Barnes face when he said that, but he didn't because the last thing he wants is to lose the trust he's been given and has tried to reciprocate.

And after months' worth of short calls to longer conversations, James Barnes shows himself in the Tower with Lucky happily bouncing on his paws. While everyone except Natasha (are you kidding? She always knows especially with Clint) is busy collecting their jaws from the expensive floor of one Tony Stark, Clint just grins at him and hands him a steamy mug of coffee. James accepts it, rolling his eyes at the eccentricity that is Clinton Francis Barton and casually says, "This better not be your shitty coffee, Barton."

"Oh, no. It's not Maria's but Stark has better taste than me."

"Should I be alarmed by your habit, Clint?" Natasha casually rolls into the scene like she always does. Clint throws him a proud grin, "It's not a habit, Nat. Call it my irresistible charm for Soviet assassin strays-"

"Not a bit Russian, moron." Barnes retorts while Steve practically leaps off from the elevator he's in, clearly anticipating a serious security breach and ends up saying in reflex, "Language-"

"-Sulky, sarcastic, and angry stray puppy it is this time-"

"Bucky?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for eading this to the end! See you in my next stories!-- well, if any of my plot bunnies decide to show up that is.


End file.
